


remove the masks

by we_are_the_same



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Beards, M/M, mentions of fake relationships, post-MSG
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2012-12-07
Packaged: 2017-11-20 13:32:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_are_the_same/pseuds/we_are_the_same
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It's always 'soon' and never 'now'</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>December 2nd / MSG fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	remove the masks

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to Tumblr for the song titles.
> 
> To be honest I'm not even sure what happened here.

It's always  _soon_  and never  _now_.

  
Always  _but, Harry_ , or  _you know why_ , and one time it was  _you don't understand_. There's nothing Harry hates more than hearing that, than being told he's too young to have an opinion about  _his_  life.

  
Yeah, he was young when this started. They all were. But he's not sixteen anymore, he's not that kid that thought his dream would never come true, only to end up in a band with four of the best friends anyone could ever ask for. He's not that kid that signed a contract and thought it couldn't be that bad.

  
Because it  _is_. And Harry knows that people are only trying to protect him, that his mum and his friends and  _Louis_  are only doing what they do to keep him safe, shielded,  _young_. And he is, but he isn't.

  
Because he's not sixteen anymore. He's not clueless, caught unaware by this pretty boy from Doncaster that made his heart race in ways he had never experienced before. He's legally an adult now, but more than that, he's matured beyond his years, seen more things, done more things, than most boys his age.

  
He's seen what he's pretty sure is the love of his life, holding hands with someone else. Kissing her. Going out on dates, making sure that the paps get as much footage as they need so the public will keep believing in  _Elounor_. 

  
And Harry said okay to that, by signing a contract. By assuring Louis that he's fine, that he knows what's real and what isn't, because he does. By the light of day, when he sees Louis's apologetic face, when he reaches to brush a fingertip over his wrist or gives him the secret signal that they've been using for so long now, Harry knows that Louis loves him. Only him. 

  
 _Always him_ , because Louis whispers that in his ear whenever he has to go out in public with El, and Harry smiles and nods and kisses him and wishes that he could leave a mark –- even if no one would know, he could see it on the photo's, could  _remember_  who Louis belongs to.

  
Because he's fine, by the light of day, but it's a whole 'nother story at night. 

 

  
He wants to talk about it sometimes, but they never do. 

  
Talking about it would mean admitting he isn't fine.  
Would mean letting Louis in on how much this hurts him.  
How much  _he_  hurts him.

  
And he can't do that. Because Louis is bending over backwards, trying to make him happy. He's playing the happy couple with Eleanor and denying any romantic involvement with Harry, he's the one that gets abuse when management takes over his Twitter, and Louis does all that for  _him_. For them. It might not have started that way, he might have signed that contract because he wanted to be famous, because he wanted to earn enough money so none of their families would ever have to worry again, but they've achieved that, and more. 

  
It's about Harry, now, and what kind of boyfriend would he be if he told Louis that what he's doing isn't enough? That he's miserable and scared and that it hurts more than anything that Louis tries to keep Eleanor out of his life. He's smart enough to know that Lou is only doing it to keep Harry from having to deal with the whole situation, but a casual _oh, El is coming over for a few days_  would be a whole lot better than waking up to find her already at the breakfast table.

  
El's nice enough, she really is. She's sweet and apologetic and she'll squeeze Harry's hand and tell him how lovely they are together, but Harry is petty and jealous and irrational, and maybe he's a child still, but he's scared. Scared that he doesn't know what he's doing, that he'll never know because he'll never get to make any of the decisions. 

  
Sometimes he wants to quit the band, but what good would that do? All the things they've worked for, all the things _Louis_  has tried so hard to protect, in vain. Thrown aside like it doesn't matter, like Harry doesn't care.

  
He cares too much. 

  
Zayn knows. Zayn sees, the way he's always seen, and maybe Zayn's situation is different because  _Payzer_  was real and _Zerrie_  was never more than a friendship turned publicity stunt, but he understands Louis's need to protect them and Harry's silent suffering. Sometimes Zayn'll slip his hand in Harry's when they're about to head outside, squeezes tight and smiles in a way that isn't happy but still makes Harry feel a little better. He figures it's because he feels less alone. Because Zayn has taught himself to be careful, has taught Harry as well, and they keep each other from slipping up.

  
Of course, in the past, Zayn could never  _not_  be careful, and sometimes Harry thinks back on those months and all he wants to do is travel back in time and hug him and tell him  _it gets better_  and  _Liam will love you_  and  _please eat_. The others always knew about him and Lou, and he's thankful for their support, thankful that they have at least one place to be themselves. Zayn had none, for a long time, and Harry knows that he shouldn't feel so awful when Lou goes out with El because Zayn has had to watch Liam be genuinely in love with someone else and that's bound to be so much worse –- but the few times he's tried talking to Zayn about this, the other would scoff and squeeze his neck and even without words, Harry knows that Zayn would listen to him worrying over the whole situation every day and never judge. 

 

  
He's not sure why he tells Louis that management approached him, when it was the other way around, when Harry finally couldn't take it anymore, having spent all night waiting up for Louis to come back from his date. He's never lied to Louis before, was never one with much of a pokerface, but Lou is too angry and upset to notice, just about ready to stalk right into their office and do  _somethinganythingwhateverittakes_  to get this madness to stop.

  
Harry kisses him and pulls him into bed, whispers  _'it's okay'_  into his skin and tries to keep his stomach from churning with guilt as Louis's sobs finally subside into little shivers. 

  
It hurts, to see how Louis has to swallow when Taylor Swift is first brought up. To feel him jerk away when Harry reaches out to brush fingertips against his neck. It hurts when Louis mutters  _sorry, sorry_  into his skin later, and Harry knows from the tone of his voice that he's not just apologizing for being standoffish today.

  
 _“I swore to myself that you would never have to do this”_  is what Louis hiccups into his shoulder when management has finished explaining to them how this is going to go. Harry rubs his back and shushes him, makes comforting noises until Lou succumbs to sleep, exhausted from crying and worrying. Seeing him curled up in their bed, eyes puffy and nose red, not even relaxing while he slumbers, Harry wonders if this is how Louis feels, if it almost killed him to come home on those few nights that Harry's failed to stay up and cried himself to sleep instead. 

  
He's glad that he's kept Louis from seeing how truly bad it is, though he wishes he would've warned him, too. Wonders if this is really going to make it better, if this is the adult thing to do.

  
Wonders, too, if part of him wanted Lou to know how it feels. 

 

  
They've just played MSG, and this should be the happiest night of their lives. It should be the night they share with their loved ones, but apart from an embrace on stage, a feverish whisper of  _I love you, I love you_  that everyone in their group knew meant more than I love  _all_  of you, they are quickly herded back towards their supposed lovers. Zayn heads to Perrie with a smile, curls into her when she tells him he was wonderful, lets her comfort him even when his eyes move to where Liam is standing awkwardly with Danielle. Harry doesn't know how he does it, doesn't know how he can stand watching when he's already turned away from Louis before Eleanor had fully entered the room.

  
Taylor's on his arm now, and she's nice enough, she feels sufficiently shitty for the whole  _Harry Styles adds another notch to his bedpost_  story that's bound to hit the tabloids tomorrow, but Harry still resents her a little bit, because it's easier than admitting to himself that maybe he made a mistake. 

  
Maybe he  _should_  have let Lou handle this, because he seems to be able to deal with that, even if Harry doesn't, and right now it doesn't look like either of them are dealing all that well. Harry texts him, something personal and obscure enough that no one will know what it mean but the two of them, but although he can see Louis twitch when his phone goes off –- with the ringtone he explained is about Harry even if it seems innocuous enough –- he doesn't move to check what Harry's sent him.

  
Harry leaves with Taylor, leaves despite the fact that Louis, who was rapidly on his way to getting drunk even before El decided it's time to head somewhere more private, hasn't texted him back, hasn't even looked at him, acting instead like he would find green eyes and a full smile at the bottom of his beer. It makes him sad, it makes him angry, and all the more determined to find his way out of this mess somehow.

  
The way he walks towards Taylor's hotel with his change of clothes and his charger is his little  _fuck you_  to management, because how obvious does he need to make it? Harry Styles, the guy that makes sure there's barely any candids of him flowing around, that knows how to blend in, knows to take the back entrance if he needs to be inconspicuous (and there's a joke in there somewhere, he's sure), he walks into Taylor's hotel with his head ducked down like he's trying to avoid being seen, flaunting the fact that he's staying with his stupid toiletries bag.

  
He stays until four in the morning, tries calling Lou a few times, ends up making stupid song titles for Taylor's new album to pass the time and shove away the panic that threatens to bubble up when every phone-call goes unanswered. They giggle over  _'He called me Louis'_  and debate the pro's and con's of having a single that's called  _'I went in the wrong direction (or maybe you're gay)'_. He kisses her cheek when they deem it late enough for him to sneak out, tells her thank you and that he'll see her in a few hours, because they're supposed to be seen together, leaving the hotel, but he can't stay and she understands.

 

  
He knocks at his door, soft at first, and increasingly desperate, until El opens up, looking like she hasn't slept a wink, despite her rumpled clothes and bed-hair. Harry feels irrationally worried and jealous, like maybe –- but she sighs and draws him into the room, squeezes his hand.  _“He's finally asleep”_  She whispers, motions to the bed where Louis is curled up against a pillow, and from the way Eleanor sighs when Harry's eyes flicker to the other bed –- undisturbed sheets, obviously not slept in –- he's not exactly subtle. 

  
 _“He couldn't stop crying”_  Her voice is soft, just a hint of judgment in it, and Harry wants to tell her that he didn't mean for this to happen, but he thinks she knows that. He turns to face her, suddenly wishing that someone  _would_  tell him what to do, and she sighs again, hugs him.  _“You have to tell him.”_

  
Harry knows better than to pretend he has no clue what she's talking about, yet that's his first instinct. Maybe he's learned a bit too much from Zayn, who was still denying his crush on Liam even after it became obvious, after it became requited. It's comforting, when nothing changes, and old habits die hard. “I don't know how to,” he admits, quietly, and she nods. “I just wanted to help. I thought it'd make this easier. Because we'd both be-”

  
 _“Miserable?”_  a voice cuts in, but it's not El. It's Lou, who's pushed himself up into a sitting position, despite the fact that he looks alarmingly green. His voice is gravelly and his eyes are bloodshot, but he still holds Harry's gaze unwaveringly.  _“Haz, you're so stupid.”_

  
Harry kind of wants to cry, as much as he wants to yell at him, but he just stands in the middle of the room until El slinks out and Louis looks as though he's about to get up from the bed despite being somewhere between drunk and hungover.  _“What were you thinking, Haz?”_  Louis asks, and Harry lets out a choked off sound, folds himself against Louis on the bed, presses so close he gets a little drunk just from breathing in his scent. 

  
“I just wanted to help,” he whispers hoarsely, feels tears escaping from between tightly shut eyes. “I know that you think I'm too young-”

  
 _“What?”_  Louis interrupts, and he sounds genuinely shocked, his fingers tightening in Harry's hair, but not enough to coax him into moving away so he can look at him.  _“Harry, that's not –- that's bullshit.”_  He exhales, inhales, leaving Harry to wait for the rest, but nothing comes until Louis finally exhales again, shakily.  _“This isn't about you being the youngest, Haz. It's not that I don't think you can handle it-”_

  
Harry interrupts, “I can't”, and Louis pinches the bridge of his own nose, brushes an apologetic kiss over Harry's forehead. 

  
 _“Whether you can or can't, love, this isn't – I didn't mean to make you feel like it was about that. I just – I don't want this, for you. I don't want you to have to deal with this, even if you can, you shouldn't have to.”_  Louis explains, his hands rubbing Harry's back just a little clumsier than he would if he was sober, but despite the way he sometimes jostles him, Harry doesn't ever want him to stop.

  
“Neither should you.” Harry argues, and Louis sighs, pinches at his nose again. 

  
 _“No,”_  he agrees quietly.  _“Neither should I.”_

 

  
At the time, Louis offers no explanation for why he told fans that  _Christmas is tomorrow_ , no excuse for his words beyond having had too much alcohol, and his words are soon dismissed as the ramblings of a drunk. 

  
Louis confesses the truth to Harry's skin, whispers about muddled thoughts of presents and finally getting what he wants –- mentions dropping the bomb, telling people, consequences be damned –- and Harry laughs and kisses him and teases him that Louis must think so much of himself if he thinks that their coming out is like Christmas come early for the fans. He sobers up when Louis kisses him back, whispers  _for me, for you, for us_  like Harry knows this whole thing is, and always has been.

  
It's twenty-something days until Harry squeezes his hand and whispers “Christmas is tomorrow” to Louis, and it isn't until he brushes his thumb over the ring on Louis's finger that Lou jerks in his seat, pays attention to what he's saying rather than just nodding along numbly while his head continues to race with what Harry imagines are thoughts of going home, being with their family, flight schedules and band rehearsals all whirring around in that lovely head of his. 

  
 _“You mean-”_  He starts, and Harry smiles, even when Louis shakes his head, tries  _“Harry”_  in a tone that he knows all too well, but Harry tightens his hold on him, maintains eye contact until Louis gives a shivery sigh, and nods.  _“Okay,”_ he whispers back, smiling despite his unease.  _“Tomorrow.”_  

 

  
 _“I want in.” Harry says, rests his chin on Louis's chest and looks at him. “From now on, I want in on the decisions. We're in this together, Lou, and it's time we took matters into our own hands.”  
_

  
_Louis looks at him, over the rim of his glasses, his eyes still a little bloodshot from the amount of alcohol at last night's after-party. “Are you sure?” He asks, and Harry kisses the spot over his heart._

  
_“You and me. That's what this is about, right?” He doesn't wait for an answer. “It's what it's always been about.”_

  
_Lou nods at him, smiles shakily. “No more Haylor?”_

  
_“No more Haylor. No more management. No more hoops.” He knows it's easier said than done, knows that there are so many things that they need to figure out, but they've got time. They've got each other, now that they know to confide in one another. However well-intended, shielding one another from the pain this situation's caused them has only made things worse. “Just us.”_

_  
Louis holds him close, meets his eyes for a moment before leaning in to kiss him. “Always.”_


End file.
